


you've got to see what tomorrow brings (sing it for the boys remix)

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Series: OT3verse [4]
Category: Comics RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows, because he watches the playback, that the tremor that goes through him the first time Grant touches him isn’t visible.  He knows Grant felt it.  And he fucking <i>knows</i> he can’t keep the things he’s feeling out of his eyes. (Gerard POV remix of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/186897">sing it for the boys</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got to see what tomorrow brings (sing it for the boys remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sing It For The Boys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/186897) by [fleurdeliser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser), [tuesdaysgone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone). 



> This is for [](http://isweedan.livejournal.com/profile)[**isweedan**](http://isweedan.livejournal.com/), who answered our begging for downloadable audio of Gerard telling Kerrang Radio that "Pull this pin" was adapted from something Grant wrote to him in his first printing copy of the first issue of The Invisbles. Which we did not actually make that up with our minds.

Gerard knows how fucking lucky he is to have this; he’s having the time of his life running around in the desert with his friends, acting out images from his head, seeing his friends inhabit his world.  Seeing it blossom on film.  It’s so incredibly special, and it’s his - no, _theirs_ \- and maybe it’s just because he’s tired but every time he turns around and sees Ray rocking the eye patch, Mikey charging across the lobby with a crazed grimace, Frank’s dusty swagger, Grant stalking menacingly through the halls, his chest gets tight.

His guys are amazing.  They’re so into this, they’re trusting him to direct them, they’re acting their hearts out.  Gerard just knows, without even a glance at the playback, that this is special, better than special.  

Then it’s time for his big death scene, and Gerard’s step falters a little.  It’s in the fucking storyboards, yeah, but there he is in the moment, the hesitation, the warm weight of Grant’s hand against his shoulder and his fucking manic smile, the press of the plastic gun barrel under his chin.  He knows, because he watches the playback, that the tremor that goes through him the first time Grant touches him isn’t visible.  He knows Grant felt it.  And he fucking _knows_ he can’t keep the things he’s feeling out of his eyes.  He won’t try, because Grant’s watching him, and not hiding them is the only thing Gerard can give him.

It’s gotten easier over time, maybe because it happened over time, the hero-worship turned professional admiration, attraction turned abiding...whatever this is.  It’s friendship, whatever else it is, one of the best he’s ever had, and he knows how fortunate he is to have it.  He knows Grant’s traveled along that same path, knows it even though they’ve never discussed it.  

It doesn’t stop his breath from catching in his throat every take.  

Gerard gets a bit of a respite when they film the static shots, the closeups of him “dead” against the wall, the shots of the other guys sprawled across the black tile.  The body bag scene.  He watches the playback of Frank’s big heroic scene more times than he needs to, strictly speaking, just for the sight of Frank charging headlong into the swarm of white-suited extras with that gorgeous determination Gerard loves so much.

Frank makes it all worthwhile.  He’s the best thing out of an embarrassment of good things in Gerard’s life.

He goes to talk to Grant when they wrap for the night - the morning really.  He’s regained a little equilibrium, enough to let himself bask in Grant’s soft burr.  When Frank comes to join them, nuzzling into Gerard’s shoulder, Gerard pulls him close automatically but keeps talking.  Grant’s not looking at Gerard anymore, though; he’s looking at Frank, and the change that comes over his face makes Gerard’s stomach flip crazily.  He’s off balance again, as easily as that, enough to shiver hard when Frank swipes his thumb over the spot on Gerard’s neck that drives him particularly wild.  It’s deliberate, and it’s confusing, and it’s not fucking fair.  Frank ought to know better.  

Frank _does_ know better, Gerard knows that, and Gerard is positive Grant knows better than to tease.  Not him, not like this.  The way Grant’s watching them both says it’s something more than that, though.  The tremors start again, his body revving with a hundred long-held fantasies, and he trusts Frank’s hand in his to keep him where he needs to be.

The crew’s starting to clear out when they reach the costume trailer.  Gerard barely even registers Frank stopping outside to talk to the wardrobe and makeup girl until Frank lets go of his hand.  Grant turns back when the door shuts behind them, stands in Gerard’s path and waits, watches.  Gerard takes the extra step to put him in Grant’s personal space.  He’s distracted by a spot of pale foundation along Grant’s jaw, a bit he must have missed when he wiped it off after his scenes wrapped, and he reaches out without thinking to rub his thumb along the tiny smear.

“Gerard,” Grant says quietly, and Gerard drops his hand.  Grant’s eyes speak volumes for him and Gerard can’t breathe right anymore.

“Please,” he begs.  He doesn’t have to say more; that one word has Grant reaching for him.  Not fast like Gerard was expecting, frantic like Gerard feels, but slow.  Deliberate in the slide of his hands up Gerard’s chest, curving over his shoulders and pushing his jacket to his elbows.  Measured in the way they slip back up into Gerard’s hair.  Grant noses at Gerard’s throat, lips sliding along the line of his jaw before settling over Gerard’s.  Gerard gasps, without any sound behind it, and Grant slips his tongue inside immediately.  

It’s slow and devastating, and he’s so fucking gone it’s not funny.  This is not a first kiss.  This is Gerard, silently offering Grant everything he has, anything he wants, before he remembers.  

Frank reminds him, with the soft click of a lock and the deliberate clearing of his throat.  It’s not about him, it’s about them.  They haven’t invited anyone to join them in a long time, though, and it’s been even longer since it was someone Gerard cared about.  And he cares about this, so desperately, and he’s fucking up already by not fucking waiting.  He bites his lip; this is Frank’s decision.  Gerard gave up his right to decide a long time ago, but he’s not above begging Frank with his eyes.  

He sneaks a look at Grant, who’s pulled away - Gerard will admit he let out a little whine when that happened - and is now wearing a careful, challenging little smirk.  Frank is teasing, licking his lips and throwing a little swagger into his step as he comes closer.  Gerard’s lips part; Frank will kiss him, he’ll be forgiven for jumping the gun, and -

Frank sidesteps him and stretches to kiss Grant.  His tattooed hand against the wool and ruffles of Grant’s chest is obscenely gorgeous, and so is Grant’s hand wrapped around the nape of Frank’s neck, and Gerard knows his mouth is hanging open but he does not care.  Frank’s got a little grin playing around his mouth as he turns to Gerard, which turns to a frown as Gerard stops him with a gentle shove back.  “What the fuck?” he says.

“The costumes,” Gerard rushes to say.  “I mean, what’s a little dirt, right, but if they get ripped Colleen will murder me, and Grant -” He waves a hand.  “He can’t get that costume dirty - not that I think that -”  He cuts himself off, knowing he’s babbling in a completely revealing manner, and pulls his own jacket off, turning to hang it on the garment rack with the rest of the costume pieces.  He can feel his face turning a little red.  

Frank follows him over to the costume rack and starts in - for the millionth time - with the teasing about Gerard’s tight jeans, backing him against the wall of the trailer and groping him with a mischievous little grin.  Gerard shoves him back so he can pull off his sweaty tee shirt, but Frank just boxes him in again, hands closing low and tight on Gerard’s hips.  Frank knows his body like no one else, loves it - and him - like no one else, and it never stops amazing Gerard that he can tell that just from ten fingers’ worth of pressure on his skin.  Frank kisses Gerard until they’re both panting into each other’s mouths and Gerard can barely hear above the blood rushing in his ears, but he feels the hand settle on his shoulder.

“Well, don’t the two of you make a pretty picture?”  Grant’s touching them both, but talking to Gerard.  “I told you, didn’t I?  Let yourself be creative, you’ll be amazed what happens.”  

 _Pull the pin._  It’s scrawled in Sharpie on Gerard’s most prized comic - Grant’s _Invisibles_ , the first printing, treasured and stored away.  He looks at it almost every day when they’re home, keeps meaning to get it framed.  He hasn’t found time to do it; in the meantime it’s gained a double meaning to him, one that’s also evident in the sensual curl of Grant’s voice.  

He leans in to kiss Gerard again.  It’s a second kiss, in that it’s not the first.  It feels more familiar than that, though, with the way Grant turns to Frank and murmurs, “This video....  He’s been a tease all day.”  Gerard twitches, unbearably jumpy.  He wasn’t trying to tease; Grant knows that.  Grant, Gerard thinks, is keeping things deliberately playful.  He’s pretty sure it’s for Frank’s benefit, so he lets it go.  “Let’s give him another taste, yes?” Grant says to Frank, whose answering grin is predictably bright, sharply beautiful.

Gerard has a moment to marvel at the deft way Grant’s approaching Frank - he’s clearly thought about this, thought about _them_ \- before he’s distracted by the way Frank winds himself around Grant’s larger frame, hips stuttering against Grant’s thigh as they kiss again.  It strikes Gerard like a fucking baseball bat; Frank _wants_ this, and he’s going after it the way he goes after everything he cares about.  No holds barred.  It’s still as startling, as fucking gorgeous as it was when he was twenty and screaming into a microphone.  Gerard gasps out loud before he can stop himself; he has to sit down before his fucking knees give out.

The two of them smirk at each other and then lean back in and they’re so... Gerard can’t explain it. It’s more than watching two of the people he loves most kiss each other. Just that couldn’t possibly be as hot as this is. Grant’s hands look like they were meant for Frank’s hips. It’s making Gerard’s chest feel tight.

Gerard hardly even notices that he’s shoved his jeans down his thighs and is palming himself through his briefs until Frank looks at him. He knows this look. It’s the one Frank gives him when he’s about to thread his fingers through Gerard’s hair and push him down to his dick. But Grant still has a tight hold on Frank, so he doesn’t move. Gerard bites his lip and looks up at Grant.

Grant, who with one heated look makes him gasp and pull his hand away because it’s not time for that yet. Grant tells him to come to them and he does immediately. He wants to touch them both. To smooth a hand along Grant’s jaw, to bury his fingers in Frank’s hair and kiss him until neither of them can breathe. Instead, he clenches his hands into fists at his sides and waits for Grant to tell him what to do.

“Don’t you think you should help Frank out of that body armor?” he says after studying the two of them for a few moments. Gerard feels his body spring into action instantly. It feels like he’s watching himself on one of the playback monitors, like his head is just a few steps behind his body. He can feel Grant’s eyes on them, feel Frank tremble when Gerard touches him, it’s almost too much.

He finally gets it all off Frank’s body and then he has to hang it up properly. He’s concentrating on the task as much as he can, but he still hears Frank say “Well?” to Grant.

“Well, what?” Grant answers.

“It’s the first time I stripped in front of a comic book villain,” Frank says and that is _so not true_ , Gerard can’t help but vocalize his protest. “The costume closet doesn’t count, you dork.”

It totally does, but Gerard isn’t prepared to argue the point at the moment. Especially not when Frank asks Grant if he’s going to get undressed and Grant _gives him the choice_. Gerard almost doesn’t catch it, almost doesn’t realize, but then it hits him again how very careful Grant is being with Frank. How he’s reading Frank so well and giving him what he needs and if Gerard needed any proof of how much Grant cares about _him_ , all he really needs to do is look at how Grant is treating _Frank_.

“Uh … take it off, or Gerard will bitch,” Frank says finally.

“And that would be a problem?”  Grant sounds amused, even more so when Frank answers with an emphatic affirmative.  He slips the coat off his shoulders and says, “Gerard?”  Gerard startles a little, distracted by the view.  “I believe you’ll want to hang up my clothing.”

Grant’s hands are on the buttons of his vest and shirt, and Gerard memorizes every inch of skin he exposes, mouth dry, before slipping behind him to take the clothing away.  His fingers brush across the skin of Grant’s shoulders accidentally and god, he wants to do it again.  He bites the inside of his cheek, willing himself under control, and goes to hang the clothes up.  When he looks back at them, Grant’s hands are at Frank’s belt and he’s asking who Frank wants to help him.

Fuck, this is actually happening.  This is actually happening and it’s nothing like he imagined it would be. He looks at Frank, his hair brushing his bare shoulders, looking so fucking beautiful, just like always. And Grant. Grant who is also beautiful in completely different ways. He’s got a little belly and Gerard can see the infamous appendectomy scar, and fuck, his cock is huge and gorgeous and Gerard feels entirely overwhelmed by the sight of the two of them together like this. Frank’s looking at him. He suddenly seems a little overwhelmed himself, so Gerard isn’t surprised when he says, “Gerard should do it.”

Gerard steps forward and gets Frank’s belt open and then just holds him there. He rests his forehead against Frank’s. “Hey, Frankie.”  He smiles and rubs his hands along Frank’s sides and stomach.

"I had no idea that you had –that you wanted– is this okay?" Frank whispers. He sounds unsure of himself - or maybe unsure of _him_ \- and god, whatever Frank wants from this is okay with Gerard. Even if it's not what he imagined. _Gerard_ is the one who should be asking that question, not Frank, and he jumps to reassure him.

Gerard strokes Frank's stomach. " _Is_ it okay?" Gerard asks. Frank meets his eyes and they stare at each other for a moment and then Frank nods. Gerard takes a deep breath and goes back to Frank's jeans, goes down on his knees to help him step out of them, resting a hand on his shin. Gerard sees Frank shiver, sees Grant's hands reverently tracing his tattoos like they're precious, like Frank is precious. Grant looks into Gerard's eyes.

"Very nice," he says. The tone is light, but Gerard knows he means more than just appreciation for Frank's body. He's saying he understands what Frank means to Gerard, that he doesn't resent Gerard, or Frank for that matter, for the way things are.

"I know," Gerard answers. It's really a thank you. Grant smiles at him and god, Gerard loves that smile.

Grant leans down and whispers in Franks ear, "Tell me what you want, pretty boy."

Gerard shivers. He glances at Grant who looks expectant and curious, at Frank who looks a little stunned and a lot turned on.

"I want... I want you to fuck me," Frank breathes out. Gerard feels a tiny pang of disappointment. He's been wanting Grant for so long and he can tell that no amount of time with him will ever feel like enough, but if this is the way Frank needs it to be, then that's okay. Because Gerard made a promise, if only to himself, and he intends to keep it. "And I want him to watch," Frank continues. Gerard sucks in a breath. Of fucking course he wants to watch that. "And he can have us both after, if he holds out until you say."

Grant runs his hands over Frank's neck and collarbone. Frank arches into the touch and when Grant murmurs "Excellent choices" into his ear, Frank shivers hard. Gerard's hand squeezes compulsively around Frank's shin.

“Gerard,” Grant says and Gerard looks into his eyes and there’s _so much_ there, it takes Gerard’s breath away. “Prepare him for me.”

Grant maneuvers Frank over to the couch, has him kneel with his back to them, on display. Gerard licks his lips and stands.

“Do you have anything?” Grant whispers to him.

“No,” Gerard answers with a shake of his head. The most sex he anticipated having today was maybe tired handjobs when they finally got home. Definitely not the sort that would require any supplies.

“I believe I do. I brought my general travel bag with me and usually I keep a small supply in that.” Grant cups Gerard’s jaw with his hand and rubs a thumb across his lips. Gerard closes his eyes and leans into the touch, tries to memorize the feel of Grant’s hand on his cheek. He opens his eyes and Grant smiles softly at him before going into the other room to get stuff from his bag.

Gerard turns back to look at Frank. He reaches out and touches the guns crossed on Frank’s back and then down his hip. Frank trembles under his hand. “Frankie,” he whispers. He’s still stunned that this is happening at all.

Frank looks back at him, the look in his eyes not unlike the one Grant was giving him a minute ago. Frank reaches out, grabs his hand, and tugs until their mouths come together and Frank kisses him, slips his tongue into Gerard’s mouth and god, Gerard loves him. Loves how he kisses Gerard when he’s too full of everything to form words. Grant comes back into the room and they break apart.

“So very beautiful,” Grant says, sitting on the couch next to where Frank is kneeling and looking at Gerard and then Frank. “Prepare him, Gerard. Use your tongue.”

Frank pulls in a deep, shuddery breath, still looking into Grant’s eyes, and Gerard looks away, focusing on the tattoos crawling down Frank’s back, the curve of his spine.  He kneels on the couch, leans down to kiss the crossed revolvers then moves down, spreading Frank open to sweep his tongue along his crack, licking and pressing at his opening with the tip of his tongue as Frank pants above him, swearing and grinding his hips against the couch.  Gerard fucking loves this, the texture, the slickness of his own saliva easing his path along Frank’s hot skin.  The way Frank squirms and moans.  

Gerard’s moaning himself, now, pulling back for a moment to gasp in a lungful of air.  He could do this all night - morning - but Frank’s gonna need more than this.  Grant exchanges glances with him and he hears Grant ask Frank in a low voice if he’s ready.  Frank stammers something back - it’s sort of hilarious.  Gerard’s not a small dude, but Grant’s got him outclassed and Frank’s really fucking predictable in some ways.  He stifles a laugh - Grant doesn’t bother stifling his - and presses two fingers into Frank right away.  He’s wet enough from Gerard’s mouth to ease the slide, but Gerard leans back in, licking between his fingers, flicking his tongue at the stretched skin.  Frank will take another, Gerard knows, savoring the hot clench of Frank’s body and pushing in the third finger.

Frank gasps above him, loud and desperate, and Gerard looks up at Grant, who raises an eyebrow and holds out the condom.  Gerard bites his lip.  Fuck, yes, he is so fucking overdue to be touching Grant, but the pathetic noise Frank makes when he pulls his fingers out … he wants everything and he laughs at his own overwhelmed confusion.

“Fuck you,” Frank gasps.  

Gerard really wasn’t laughing at him - this time - but Frank’s fired up, Gerard can tell from his face, so he’s not surprised, and he doesn’t mind.  Grant says smoothly, “That’s not in the plan for tonight.”  He hands over the condom and settles back onto the couch.  Gerard opens the packet, rolls the condom slowly down over Grant’s cock with his eyes glued to Grant’s face.  Grant closes his eyes, grips the base of his cock firmly, and there it is, a crack in Grant’s composure.  Their fingers brush together and Grant reaches for him.  Gerard goes gladly for a kiss.

He pulls reluctantly away from Grant after a moment.  He could take hours and explore every corner of Grant’s mouth, if he had the time, but … he doesn’t.  It’s an actual physical pain in his chest, and when he looks back at Grant he can see that Grant knows.  It’s unfair of him, and Frank is waiting, he’s been so good and he didn’t have to say yes to this at all and -

Grant looks away first, reaching for Frank and pulling him into his lap.  “A little assistance if you please, Gerard,” he says, voice thick, and Gerard reaches to help position him as he pushes up into Frank.  Frank moans and it’s so fucking gorgeous and he just wants to climb inside this whole moment.  He grabs onto Frank’s searching hand, wraps his other hand around Grant’s bicep, presses as close as he can get.

“Frank,” he whispers, “do you have any idea how -”  Frank never, ever sees himself the way Gerard does, he always looks stunned when Gerard fumbles to describe it, so Gerard just says, “Oh, fuck, so beautiful,” and kisses the side of Frank’s neck over the scorpion, turns his head and Grant’s right there, eyes dark, lips shiny, and Gerard has to kiss him too because if he tries to tell him how amazing he is right now he’s sure those words will escape him too.

Frank’s twisting and arching his back and he lets out a sudden loud hiss.  Gerard squeezes his fingers.  “Frankie?”  Frank doesn’t always know his own limits.  Frank doesn’t like to be vulnerable.  Gerard has a feeling this is skirting very close to both.

Grant gathers Frank closer and kisses his neck, whispers, “Tell him how it feels, Frank.”  Grant knows.  He knows and he’s got things under control and Gerard feels like maybe he can let go.  

Frank makes a needy little noise and answers, “Gee, fuck, it feels so fucking good, I can’t - _touch me_ , Gee,” he begs.  Grant takes that as a sign to speed up, and soon Frank’s pushing back against his thrusts and forward into Gerard’s hand, moaning helplessly.  Gerard kisses the curve of his shoulder, sinks his teeth in gently just as Frank comes all over Gerard’s fist and Grant’s still thrusting up, holding Frank against his chest, and when Frank turns to kiss him, gasping into Frank’s mouth as he comes.  

Gerard falls back against the couch cushions; now that he’s not so utterly caught up by them his own cock is begging for attention.  He hasn’t even touched himself once since - fuck, since they started kissing.  He’s still wearing his jeans, and thank god the fly’s already open because now that he’s got a hand on himself he’s not stopping for anything, least of all struggling out of these fucking things.

He’s dimly aware that he’s jumping the gun yet again, that Frank said he was supposed to wait, but Grant’s giving Frank a gentle push in his direction and that’s as much approval as Gerard feels he needs, especially when Frank shoves his hand out of the way and starts one of those no-fucking-around blowjobs that he’s so fucking good at.  Gerard winds Frank’s hair around his fingers and tips his head back, watching Grant push himself to his feet and dispose of the condom before returning to the couch and bending down for a taste of Gerard’s mouth.  “You were so good, Gerard,” Grant murmurs. “Did you like that, like watching me with your boy?”

Gerard figures it’s a rhetorical fucking question because he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything hotter, not in his entire life.  But Frank’s moaning around his dick and digging his nails into Gerard’s thigh, so Gerard gasps out an affirmative, fist clenching in Frank’s hair.  Grant leans in to kiss him again, tongue teasing the corner of his mouth before drifting down his throat, and Frank’s fucking hitting his stride, swallowing Gerard down as far as he can go and reaching down to cup Gerard’s balls and yeah, yeah, that’s it, that’s all he needs.  He comes right down Frank’s throat and and as soon as he can figure out which way is up he pulls Frank up so he can kiss him.  Gerard fucking loves that he can taste himself, loves _Frank_ to fucking distraction.

Gerard pulls back to breathe and Grant brushes Gerard's hair behind his ear.

"I've got to go," Grant says and Gerard wants to protest, tell him to stay with them. But maybe he has somewhere to be at 5:30 am. Maybe he just feels like he _needs_ to go; he certainly doesn't sound like he wants to. Grant runs a hand down Frank's back, touches Gerard's arm lightly, and pushes up off the couch. Frank squirms around, clearly so he can better watch Grant dress. Gerard's stomach swoops ridiculously when Frank makes an appreciative noise as Grant bends over to pull his pants on. He clenches his jaw. He can't... he refuses to hope about this. Whatever happens or doesn't happen in the future, that's up to Frank, and Gerard isn't going to try to sway him either way. Grant pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket and fiddles with them. It's a nervous gesture and Gerard wishes there was _something_ he could do or say, but this is probably it and they both know it.

Grant steps closer to them and says, "Thank you. For sharing him."

Gerard's heart leaps into his throat. "You're welcome," he answers. At the same time as Frank. Frank pushes up and stares down at Gerard. Gerard stares back. He kind of wants to cry. He’s too full of love and gratitude and fucking _wonder_ that this is his life, that Frank is his and smiling at him the way he is right now. He bites his cheek and then takes a deep breath.

"You two," Grant says with a light chuckle. He's looking at them like they're wonderful, full of magic. "Oh, you two." He leans down and kisses Frank. When he pulls back, he murmurs, "You're both right, you know," and then kisses Gerard. Gerard wants to pull him close, wrap his arm around Grant's neck and never let go. Instead, he kisses him back and watches Grant sling his bag over his shoulder and walk toward the door.

"See you around," Grant calls over his shoulder.

"See you _soon_ ," Gerard insists. Maybe he won't be able to have _this_ again, but there is no way in hell he's giving up Grant's friendship. "We'll be in the UK at the end of October."

Grant smiles over his shoulder, "I know." And then he's gone. Gerard works hard to regulate his breathing, to keep calm and not lose it completely. He's so fucking thankful for what just happened. So glad he got to kiss Grant and touch him and hold him. So fucking grateful he can't _breathe_ : that Frank loves him, and that this whole thing happened.

He takes a few seconds, gets himself under control and says, "You okay, Frankie?"

Frank laces their fingers together; Gerard squeezes back. "Yeah, I'm good."

Gerard knows Frank's voice. Knows what every single tone means, knows without a shadow of a doubt that he's telling the truth. He wants to cry again. But he takes a deep breath and tightens his arms around Frank and just breathes.

They lie there for a few minutes, but Gerard starts actually _feeling_ the fact that they've been awake for a really ridiculously long time and he really doesn't want to fall asleep here. He kisses the top of Frank's head.

"We should go. I need a cigarette. And coffee." Gerard nudges at Frank until he rolls off Gerard and stands. Gerard pushes himself up and makes his way toward their clothes. "A cigarette, coffee, and maybe some pancakes. Wanna go get breakfast with me, Frankie?"

Frank throws a beaming smile at him. "Breakfast sounds great."

Gerard's heart clenches. He loves Frank so fucking much. They dress quickly, make sure the door to the trailer is locked, then lean against the side and light up. Gerard looks at the sky. Sunrise isn't technically for a little while longer, he's pretty sure, but the sky is starting to light up and it's gorgeous. He hears Frank moving and glances over at him. He's got his camera out, snapping photos. Gerard smiles.

"Ready?" Gerard asks when he finishes his cigarette.

Frank emerges from behind his camera. "Sure."

They start walking toward where Gerard's car is parked. Gerard reaches out and takes Frank's hand and holds it until they get in the car. Gerard puts the key in the ignition, but doesn't turn it.

"Frankie..." he says, but he doesn't know what he even wants to say or where to start.  He lets his head drop back against the 911’s headrest, breathes out through his nose.  He chances a look over at Frank, who’s stopped with his seatbelt in his hand, waiting.  When Gerard doesn’t keep going, he pushes the buckle together and leans back.  Gerard follows suit, then reaches for Frank’s hand again.  Maybe it’s simpler to just say - “Thank you.”

Frank closes his eyes for a moment, then squeezes Gerard’s fingers.  “Don’t, Gerard.  Please, you don’t have to - it was -”  He stops, and Gerard bites his lip.

“It was -”

“Surprising,” Frank finishes softly.

That could mean several things, but Gerard doesn’t want to push.  Frank always seems to find the words he really needs when it matters.  What matters to Gerard is just that he’s there to listen for them.  “I love you,” he says.

The corner of Frank’s mouth quirks up a little in a familiar smile.  “I know, Gee.”

Gerard smiles too and turns the key in the ignition.  The motor purrs to life beneath them and he looks sideways at Frank.  “You ready to get out of here?”

The smile gets a little bigger.  “Let’s go.”


End file.
